A poem by Sri Aurobindo
Our godhead calls us in unrealised things. Asleep in the wide fields of destiny, A world guarded by Silence' rustling wings Sheltered their fine impossibility.
But part, but quiver the cerulean gates, Close splendours look into our dreaming eyes, We bear proud deities and magnificent fates; Faces and hands come near from Paradise.
What shone thus far above is here in us; Bliss unattained our future's birthright is; Beauty of our dim soul is amorous; We are the heirs of infinite widenesses.
The impossible is the hint of what shall be, Mortal the door to immortality.
A godhead moves us to unrealised things. Asleep in the wide folds of destiny, A world guarded by Silence' rustling wings Shelters their fine impossibility:
But parting quiver the caerulean gates; Strange splendours look into our dreaming eyes; We bear proud deities and magnificent fates; Faces and hands come near from Paradise.
What shines above, waits darkling here in us: Bliss unattained our future's birthright is, Beauty of our dim souls grows amorous, We are the heirs of infinite widenesses.
The impossible is our mask of things to be, Mortal the door to immortality.
Part VII : Pondicherry (Circa 1927-1947) > Sonnets from Manuscripts (Circa 1934-1947)
How to read the color-coded changes below? 1. SABCL version : lines with any changes & specific changes 2. CWSA version : lines with any changes & specific changes
NOTES FROM EDITOR
1934; revised subsequently. Four hand-written manuscripts and one typed manuscript. This poem began as a variant of “The Silver Call”: the first lines of the two poems were once identical—”There is a godhead in unrealised things”—and the first rhyming words remain the same even in the final versions.
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